Consequence Free
by iamsheena
Summary: A prequel to "Much More Than Life," "Consequence Free" follows the life of Marshall Connelly as he's forced to become breadwinner for he and his brother Louis after their father walks out on the two of them. Once spending his days running truant with his friends, Marshall is forced to become the responsible disciplinarian in order to give him and his brother a better life.


**Summary: **A prequel to "Much More Than Life," "Consequence Free" follows the life of Marshall Connelly as he's forced to become breadwinner for he and his brother Louis after their father walks out on the two of them.

Once spending his days drinking, smoking, or running truant with his friends, Marshall is forced to become the responsible disciplinarian in order to give him and his brother a life worth living.

* * *

**Chapter One**

_I couldn't sleep at all last night_

'_Cause I had so much on my mind._

_I'd like to leave it all behind,_

_But you know it's not that easy._

"_**Consequence Free" by Great Big Sea**_

* * *

A strip of light crept under the door of Marshall and Louis' Connelly's bedroom door, inexplicably waking the former while the latter remained fast asleep. Marshall looked at the alarm clock on their shared bedside table – each of their sides complete opposites in organization – and saw that it was far too early for anyone to be awake. But it wasn't completely unheard of for their father to experience insomnia, so there was nothing all that unusual.

Figuring he was up anyway and could use a trip to the toilet, Marshall rolled unceremoniously out of bed and trudged towards the bathroom, expecting to see his father drunk on the couch or rummaging around in the fridge. He saw neither of these things.

When he re-emerged from the bathroom, he was about to turn off all of the lights when something started to feel off. First of all, his da's bedroom door was open, which it never was, and his father wasn't inside. John Connelly wasn't exactly reliable or one to follow routines, so him leaving the house at strange hours wasn't so bizarre. Marshall noticed, though, on his father's unusually organized bed, a piece of lined paper with messy scrawl lay waiting for him.

_Marshall + Louis,_

_I'm sorry to do this to yous but I can't take it no more. I held out long as I could – Marshall, your grown up now._

_I won't be round no more so yous got to take of each other. Marshall go to school and make your brother go to._

_I left some money for food in the kitchen and the rent is paid for the next 2 months (you need to pay again end of April)._

_Bye_

_\- Da_

Marshall felt a cold disbelief and confusion wash over him, followed closely by fear and then rage. He felt one emotion, then the other, over and over again, taking everything he had in him to avoid cursing and shouting to the air and waking his brother up. He wouldn't tell Louie yet. At least, not until he was sure he couldn't fix this. Whatever 'this' was. With great restraint, he stormed to the kitchen where there was an envelope of roughly two-hundred pounds at a quick glance.

He had never needed to be responsible before. Going to school became a rarity since turning eighteen (and his track record wasn't so great before then). Instead, he'd dick around the house or meet his equally-truant friends out around the River Lee to cause trouble or drink or smoke, entirely wasting his potential and knowing full well that he was doing so. His brother would get on his case sometimes when Marshall started acting more like his friends than himself. Then they'd argue and fight. Then they'd be friendly again.

The only responsibility Marshall had ever taken on was watching out for Louis. He'd keep doing that, but he'd have to figure out a whole lot more on top of that.

Marshall went to the sofa with a seldom used school notebook of his and a pencil, needing to visually organize his thoughts and priorities if his da didn't come back. He wrote:

**_① Rent? Heating/electric included?_**

**_② Food budget for 2 people?_**

**_③ Jobs?: pubs, docks, warehouses? Pay? – sell da's shit_**

**_④ KEEP LOU ON TOP OF SCHOOL!_**

**_⑤ finish exams + school_**

He re-read his list and figured it seemed to have the most important bits on it. At least working would keep him out of trouble. Marshall knew where the path he was on now lead, but it was about to change. Hopefully for the better. He'd need to work a lot to keep them afloat. Who would pay a kid like Marshall, son of a known drunk, a wage good enough? He knew he'd probably need a couple of gigs.

Marshall spent the next hour going through the drawer where they kept every bit of rubbish, including bills. Hopefully, he'd be able to find some sort of record of payments his father made regularly. He knew that he paid the landlord in cash and received a receipt – Marshall had dropped the money off at his father's request a couple of times – but he had never checked the amount. Luckily, he found a few of the receipts squirreled away in the corner of the drawer, held together by a rubber band. They read _£300_ in chicken scratch. He found separate bills for water, heating, and electric, all of which, including rent, added up to roughly £500. He amended his list:

_**① Rent? Heating/electric included? = £500**_

He continued rifling through the drawer to see if he could get any receipts for food, but there wasn't enough to go on. He made a mock list for a week's worth of food, keeping his mother in mind to try and keep them somewhat healthy, and would go down to the shops to check prices so he could get a better idea.

Marshall stared at his third point. What if he couldn't get a job? They didn't even have enough for that first rent payment at the end of April. And did his da mean that the utilities were paid until then too? He then remembered the phone and cable, adding to his list. They could do without the cable, but he'd need a phone if he wanted to find any luck with a job. And what was he really qualified to do? He didn't have the first clue about getting a job. They would have gone over it in school, but he probably wasn't in for that. Or paying attention. Although Marshall was never one to panic, he could feel something like panic rising up in him. It would be one thing if it was just him, but it wasn't. It was Louie too.

He suddenly decided that his da couldn't be gone. John Connelly would be somewhere in Cork getting drunk in some pub. And if he wasn't, someone would know where he had gone. Marshall could get him back and knock some sense into him. A man doesn't just abandon his family. Not when they've already lost their mother. That wasn't what happened. Marshall would get to the bottom of it.

As quietly as he could, he snuck into his and Louis' bedroom for a change of clothes and his wallet. Then he showered and dressed, eating plain toast for breakfast, before heading out for the day.

His mind continuously flipped back and forth between accepting that he had to take care of things and believing that his father would be back. Since the pubs wouldn't start opening for a few hours, he had to take on the former role. As planned, he explored the shops, creating a budget in his notebook of how much food cost for two people per week and per month. Then he made his way to the docks and industrial areas, inquiring about work and applying where possible. He had a knack for conversing easily with people and appearing likeable without much effort – at least when it came to men working in warehouses and on docks – so he made several good impressions and hoped something would come of it. Getting in at the docks would mean a good salary or, at the warehouses, a good wage. And he'd take any extra hours that he could.

When the pubs opened, he set up on his quest for his father (and a job, reality becoming clearer the longer he searched). He started off near their home, visiting the pubs that his father frequented along with those that, to his knowledge, he had never been in.

In one pub down the corner from their home, in which John Connelly was known by name, the owner, Sean, expressed condolences and offered Marshall a space Wednesday nights to play music for £50 if he and his brother were any good. They'd 'audition' tomorrow night, Marshall assuring him that he wouldn't be disappointed. Neither Louis nor Marshall had ever played for an audience before, and Marshall seriously doubted they were as good as he said they were, but they'd rise to the occasion because they'd have to.

In the town centre, Marshall ran into some of his father's buddies, none of whom knew anything about John skipping town and were surprised to hear of his disappearance. Marshall continued his string of no information, visiting every pub in the town centre, and every shop that he could apply in – he would take any manual labour he could find.

It wasn't until school would be let out soon that Marshall made his way home, his feet aching, his mind weary, and his eyes heavy. Other than the pity gig on Wednesdays, there wasn't any other news on the job front. He had hoped that when he got home, there would be something on the answering machine, but he was disappointed.

He lay down on the couch and turned the TV on, waiting for Louis to return home so he could break the news to him. Marshall was now sure that his father was gone – he had made sure to leave without uttering a word to anyone.

Having dozed off, Marshall was rudely woken up by Louis letting the front door slam.

"Why d'you do that?" Marshall grunted, having been woken up this way more than once.

"To get you up," Louis replied, dropping his school bag to the side of the armchair before slumping down in it. "I thought you'd be at school today when you weren't home this mornin'."

Marshall sat himself up, desperately feeling like going back to sleep. "Nah, I had shit to do."

Louis scoffed, "what? Gettin' pissed and vandalisin' people's property?"

"No," Marshall said simply, thinking about the best way to tell Louis how much their lives were going to change.

Unacquainted with such a simple response from his brother, he prodded. "What's wrong, Marshall?"

Marshall sighed, "listen, Louie."

When Marshall didn't continue, Louis started to get irritated. "What is it?"

After another impossibly long pause, Marshall said, "Da's gone."

"What d'you mean? Gone where?"

Reaching into his pocket, Marshall pulled out the folded note, which had evidently been crumpled and nearly ripped first. He passed it to Louis. "I mean, he's left."

Louis took the note and read it over quickly more than once. "I don't—where'd he go?"

"Fuck if I know, Lou!" Marshall responded, a little too brashly. "I went all over town today tryin' to find the useless cunt and no one knows anythin'. Even the boys he's usually out with seem completely lost. Da's gone. I don't know where. I don't know if he's comin' back. He's gone and we've got to get on without him."

"Marshall—"

"Louie, it's just gotta be us. We're gonna get by, but it's just gonna be you and me. I'm goin' to get to work—I applied to a shit tonne of places today and I'll go back tomorrow—and you're gonna keep doin' you in school so you can get to uni and shit. But we're gonna sell some of our stuff we don't need. The bed frames, all of da's shit, shelves, whatever people'll take. I'm goin' down to the paper tomorrow to see how much an ad'll cost for people to come and buy it all."

"Marshall," Louis cut in. "You don't need to do this all. I can apply to some places too and—"

"No, you fuckin' can't. First off, you're not old enough for anyone good to be willin' to take you on, and second, you're focusin' on school. I'm a lost cause, but you still got a future."

"You can't do this all on your own. I can—"

"Drop it, Louie. You do anythin' but focus on school and I'll beat you black and blue." Then he remembered their upcoming 'audition'. "Listen," he continued a little softer. "Sean down at River's Hag offered us a gig for £50 a night Wednesdays if we're any good. You think we can get somethin' ready for tomorrow night?"

Louis seemed to perk up at the prospect of helping, even if it was only once a week. "Yeah, we can do a couple o' covers. I don't think they'd want anythin' new."

Marshall nodded, "sounds good. Do your homework and I'll make us dinner then we'll get to practicin'."

Without argument, Louis agreed. He didn't have much homework beyond some Maths pages, so could finish quickly and decide on some of their best songs.

Louis had always been interested in playing music and convinced his mother to invest in lessons for guitar, but Marshall's interest had been later and was based solely on the fact that his father had won a bass guitar through some TV contest. Marshall attended some classes but was more interested in teaching himself once he had the basics. The two of them had been playing together for fun for a couple of years but had never really thought about going out to perform. Even when Louis started arranging some original songs, it was always for themselves. But the chance to earn some money in their time of need was too good to pass up.

After dinner, the two of them set up in the living room and decided on three different types of songs that they could play best and practised until it was well enough past midnight that Marshall figured he'd better put his foot down and get them to sleep. It wasn't strange for him to boss Louis around – he had always done it – but some of the things, like going to bed on time, would need some getting used to.

In the morning, Marshall slept in a bit, waking up as Louis tried to leave to school as quietly as he could. "Louie!" Marshall called, stumbling out of bed as his brother was about to leave. "Make sure you don't let on to anyone da's gone. You're still underage and they'll put you with some other family if they find out, yeah?"

"Don't worry, Marshall," Louis assured. "It'll be fine. See you tonight."

Once Marshall had some time to fully wake up, he began going through the house to find anything they could sell. He started in his da's room, instead identifying everything they would _keep_, knowing that they'd sell everything else, then worked his way through the rest of the house. In their da's room, they'd sell the few books he had – except the ones that belonged to their mother – and would sell any of the clothes he left behind along with all of the furniture in his room.

In the living room and kitchen, they could sell the kitchen table and chairs (they didn't use them anyway) as well as the armchair and end table. They'd keep the sofa and coffee table since they used both frequently. For now, they'd keep the TV for sanity's sake – it wasn't a very good one anyway – but they'd sell the unit the TV was in, along with the knick-knacks accumulated by their mother over the years. But he'd let Louis decide if there were any they needed to keep. He had always been closer with their mother. They could sell the floor lamp and table lamp as well.

They'd leave the stuff in their room alone for now, but could sell their bed frames, end table, and book shelf if needed. They would keep the desk so there was somewhere Louis could easily do homework.

Marshall hoped that they'd be able to get some good money for all the junk. He would intentionally set the prices high so that people could haggle down to the actual price he had in mind; maybe that would pay off. They would set the sale for Saturday – in a few days – and could put the money towards food. He would need a real job to make rent and utilities in a couple of months (or sooner if the utilities were shut off).

He went down to the local paper's office and paid the little money from their two-hundred to get their ad in the paper for Thursday, Friday and Saturday. Marshall and Louis would hide everything not being sold in the bedrooms, bringing out all saleable items to the main area so there was no confusion. He had moved a large number of items from their father's room into the living room by the time Louis returned home.

"Any calls about jobs?" he asked, sitting down on the sofa and working on music homework mindlessly in front of the TV.

"Nah," Marshall sighed, "but I put an ad for Saturday for the junk sale. We'll move everythin' not bein' sold into da's room."

Louis nodded and worked in silence as Marshall watched TV.

Just before six o'clock, the two of them headed down to the pub with guitars in hand, ready to perform a few songs for the owner, hoping that something would come out of it.

The pub was uncharacteristically empty save for a few regulars, but Sean assured them Wednesdays usually got busy a bit later than other days. He got the boys set up on a small raised platform in the corner of the pub, which both looked and smelled very old. Marshall looked over at Louis whose hands were shaking; he had always been the more reserved of the two brothers. Being forced in front of even a small crowd was a new experience for him. Marshall, on the other hand, thrived on being the centre of attention.

"Louie," Marshall whispered. "It'll be good. Breathe."

Louis swallowed and nodded before starting their first song. As they played and sang, his nerves melted away and he simply felt the music. Once they ended their first song, some of the patrons clapped while Sean nodded. "Got anymore?"

"A couple more," Marshall replied.

Sean nodded again. "Play 'em."

Again, Louis took the lead, always the one arranging and singing lead vocals. Once the second song finished, he led them straight into their final song, receiving applause at the end of each. The pub had started to become a bit busier during their set, and those who had come in were only supportive.

"Right," Sean said once they had finished. "You're good for six to nine every Wednesday? You'll get the fifty pounds an' be advertised outside wit' another act comin' on after. You'll have a jar for your tips to take wit' ya. What's your act name?"

Marshall felt immense relief to have some income, even if it was only fifty pounds and some tips per week. It was better than nothing. They hadn't discussed a band name of any sort before, never having planned to start performing for people before. "I guess… The Connelly Brothers," he decided.

"Good," Sean said writing the name down on the back of his hand before shaking Marshall's. "Any news on your da?"

Marshall shook his head, "looks like he didn't tell anyone. Thanks, Sean."

"You boys have dinner yet? I'll give yous each a free plate on the house – as a welcome to the family like."

Neither Marshall nor Louis were going to turn down free food, so they sat in a corner near the kitchen and ate what they figured would be their last hearty meal for some time. Then they were on their way home, feeling ecstatic to have a regular gig.

"You were real great," Marshall complimented, patting Louis' shoulder. "Got over them nerves quick."

Louis nodded, "yeah, once we started playin', it was easy. Don't think I'd do it by myself though."

"Nah? I'd love the attention. Maybe get a few girls outta the deal," Marshall grinned.

"Yeah, well there's a reason we fight all the time."

Marshall laughed, "ah, we get on fine."

"Marshall!"

The boys turned to see the source of the new voice and saw one of Marshall's less wholesome friends, Padraig, coming up towards them.

"Hey," he said, coming up to the two boys, "where're you comin' from wit' your guitars, ya langers?"

"Fuck off," Marshall scoffed, though he was smiling. "We were down at the Hag doin' somethin' useful. More than can be said about you skulkin' around like."

Padraig laughed. "Listen, me and Al and them are goin' drinkin'. You comin'?"

Instantly, Marshall said, "yeah, lemme just—" But he stopped himself. Before, he would go without hesitation and take some money from his da's wallet, but that wasn't an option anymore. "Nah, Paddy, can't." Marshall thought he heard Louis exhale breath like he had been holding it in.

"Ah, Marshall," Padraig urged, "come on. Lou can come too if you want, yeah?"

"Sorry, Pat. Things are shit at home right now. We gotta go."

"Marshall!" Padraig repeated, but Marshall waved him off and set off with Louis back home.

"You can go with them if you want," Louis said, not all that convincingly, once they were out of earshot.

"I'm not gonna leave you at the house alone and I can't afford anythin' anyhow. 'Sides, I should probably start avoidin' the likes of Padraig Mulcahy if I want to do any sort of decent work."

"There're rumours about him at school. How he's sellin' to some of the kids and wanted by the police and the like."

"I know," Marshall nodded. "Those rumours've always been true. The sellin' kind anyway. Padraig'd piss his pants if the police ever even looked at him. Kid's a fuckin' coward when it comes down to't."

Once they were at home, they worked together to move the bigger items into their respective places for the Saturday sale. They moved the coffee table and couch into their da's old room but moved the TV into their bedroom. They could enjoy a couple of nights of TV in bed. May as well try to make the best of a shit situation.

"What kind of jobs're you tryin' to get?" Louis asked from his bed as the commercials came on the television.

"Anythin' I can," Marshall yawned. "Manual types mostly. If I can get somethin' down the docks, I'll be set. But I applied at pubs, shops, warehouses too. If I can get a couple, that'll be good."

"You're goin' to work yourself dead. I can get somethin' small – delivery or somethin' for after school. The kind that only takes an hour or two—"

"Drop it, Louie," Marshall interrupted. "I appreciate you want to help, but your job is to get somewhere better and you'll do that by bein' the smart shit you are in school. I've nothin' goin' for me. It's good Da left in a way. At least I'll get doin' somethin', yeah?"

Louis was silent for a few moments before quietly asking, "what'll happen if you don't get anythin' in time?"

"Nothin'," Marshall assured him. "We'll go where we can and find somethin' new and better." But Marshall knew that if worst came to worst, he'd get Louis taken away and fostered with a good family while he alone suffered. Louis didn't need to know that though. "Don't worry though, baby bro. I'll keep harrassin' them all until they give me somethin'. Tomorrow, I'm goin' to go back to all the places I applied and check up on it all. Eventually, they'll get sick of me comin' and give me a job just to shut me up." _Or they'll have me arrested_, he thought.

"Okay," Louis said, sounding entirely unconvinced.

"It's late," Marshall said, turning of the TV. "Let's get some sleep." As they settled into their respective beds, Marshall's mind wouldn't shut up. It was easy to forget how young Louis was. He was fifteen but had always been a little bit younger – a little more naïve. He took a lot after their mother, and it wasn't just because they had the same look to them – dark hair, blue eyes, and pale skin. Louis was soft and kind and got lost in his dreams just like their mother had. He was soulful and took things to heart just like she had. Louis was Marshall's best friend and brother, and now he was his dependent. He'd have to be a bit less harsh with him and try to understand him a bit more if they were goin' to get on in this new life of theirs.

* * *

**A/N: So my interest in _August Rush_ has extended beyond the film. If you aren't here because of "Much More Than Life," my first _August Rush_ fic (and the first fic I ever completed), you should know that "Much More Than Life" was an intense labour of love. And what spawned out of that was my favouritism for the character of Marshall. I had originally intended to explore the relationship between he and Maya, an OC, but this story about Marshall and Louis flows more naturally and I'm excited for it. Marshall and Maya will have to wait.**

**Please review and let me know what you think. I'm aiming for this story to have more of a continuous plot compared to "Much More Than Life."**


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